Transformers Speedwriting Prompts
Speedwriting Prompts 13
Author's Notes: Hah! I finally got some of these done in time! Sadly, I can pretty much guarantee that this will not happen again until next year. I'm about to get super busy until about Christmas.
On more fun news, this batch of prompts was a whole bunch of fun. They were also chosen in honor of Banned Book Week, which is one of my favorite unofficial remembrances. I find it fascinating to learn what has been banned at points and why.
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Communal Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers or anything else referenced in these shorts.
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Title: Things are not Always as They Seem
Continuity: G1
Prompt: 2. Let Me Tell You 'Bout the Birds and the Bees. A lot of rock musicians got away with saying some pretty racy, sexy stuff by making it sound like they were talking about something else. Like, oh, check out this list . Write a story that pretends to be about something innocent, when it's about something else entirely.
"Hey, Jazz!" Blaster called cheerfully. "Whatcha listenin' to?"
Jazz smiled back. "Ah found this groovy new tune called 'We Built this City,' and Ah just can't seem to get it out of mah head."
"Ah've heard that one! Gotta agree with yah on how good it is. So, Ah assume we're still on fo' the concert tonight?"
"O' course, mech."
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"Mirage?" Bumblebee asked his fellow spec-ops agent. "Did you catch that tune Jazz was humming earlier? I couldn't quite place it."
The graceful mech nodded. "Yes, I did. I believe it was "Defying Gravity" from a popular theatre production. It is a very empowering, uplifting song with a positive message."
"Sounds nice! Thanks."
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"Jazz!" Prowl snapped, glaring at the oversized, living decoration lounging on his desk. "I realize that you have taken it upon yourself to ensure that I do not overwork myself. I even appreciate it! However, if you force me to listen to a third hour of 'Hush, Little Baby' and 'Brahms Lullaby,' I will not be held accountable for my actions."
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The Autobot Third in Command swayed down the corridor, grinning easily at those he passed and leaving cheerful bemusement in his wake. Granted, the tune he was wordlessly crooning, one he had learned from a lively group of very young human children, might have had something to do with that reaction. While so short that he restarted the melody every fifteen seconds, it was one of the bounciest, most playful songs he'd learned yet on Earth.
Reaching the door to the soundproofed, extremely private interrogation room, he slipped inside and sized up the prisoner.
Then he smiled.
The prisoner shuddered at the look on his interrogator's face, and Jazz finally broke into song, deliberately sending icy chills down his prisoner's lines.
"Ring around the rosy.
"Pockets full of Posy.
"Ashes, ashes,
"We all. fall. dead!"
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Title: No Such Thing
Continuity: G1 AU. Those on the Ark wake up in a lousy future about 200 years from now.
Prompt: 3. It's a Mad World. A lot of challenges to library books, especially science fiction and fantasy, have to do with the world they create being considered too dark or too violent (most recently, Panem in the Hunger Games books). Write a piece in which your characters encounter a really oppressive, dystopian society.
"Where are we?" Optimus Prime asked as softly as physically possible, peering out at the swirling vapors that shrouded the planet spread before him.
"I am not positive," the welcome voice of his second answered almost shakily. "Teletraan 1 has not identified our exact position, though this planet is probably our intended destination. However, it has analyzed the veritable chemical soup that composes this world's atmosphere. Fortunately, the Ark protected us while we slept, and the limited exposure since then has not been enough to harm us. Unfortunately, it is definitely toxic. For the duration of our stay, patrols will need to be as limited and preferably automated as possible. If anyone strays outside for longer than five standard hours, they will need to visit the medbay immediately. Personally, I recommend fortifying the ship and possibly building another, equally secure base if we are required to stay for longer than approximately a standard month."
"Thank you, Prowl." Turning to once more face the alien landscape, Optimus wondered aloud, "How did this planet come to be so… devastating? Even Cybertron was never twisted into something so dangerous to our kind, and the original reports showed no mention of any poisons at all, lethal or not."
Prowl hesitated for a moment, drawing his leader's curiosity. Reluctantly, the black and white mech divulged, "Unknown, sir. However, some of the information that Teletraan 1 has gathered from various sources indicate that a sentient species may have lived on this planet at one time. There is also additional information, namely in the form of extremely large, enclosed structures scattered across the globe, that might mean the species is still here. Be that as it may, without additional data, we simply don't know."
The Prime's optics lit up in a mixture of horror and fascination, but before he could ask any further questions, alarms started blaring. Exchanging a quick nod, both mechs strode off to their duties. Mysteries on an alien planet notwithstanding, they had Decepticons to foil.
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::This wouldn't happen to be one of those "large, enclosed structures" now would it, Prowl?:: Optimus inquired of his second, staring at the dome that could hold an entire city in it.
::Yes. Yes, it would be,:: his second answered dryly. ::And as of this moment, intelligence has not found any openings in it whatsoever. The Decepticons appear to be trying to blow a hole it it-:: an explosion rumbled through the assorted Autobots, and as they watched, a plume of smoke began rising from around the bend of the curved wall ::-just over there..::
::Understood.:: Optimus rose to his full height. "Autobots! We may be strangers on this world and confused as to what the future holds, but right now, our duty is clear: we must stop the Decepticons from whatever deviltry they are committing now! You should also know that there is a chance that other sentient species lives behind that wall, further complicating the matter by drawing innocent civilians into the Decepticons' paths. Does everyone understand what to do?" At the answering cheers, he finished with, "Then transform and roll out!"
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Well, there had certainly been sentients inside the dome. Thanks to the warning, there had been no disaster, but the entire fighting force had been shocked to discover that the other species was organic, many, and in every stage of development.
"Are you a whale?"
"I beg your pardon?" Optimus rumbled at the juvenile female in front of him. Most of the 'humans' appeared cautious or even frightened of the large group of robots that had fought off the other group of killer robots, but this youngling held no such concerns.
"I asked if you were a whale. I suppose you could be a dolphin or something else, but you're so big that I think you'd only be able to be a whale."
What is a whale? the Prime wondered before gently correcting the girl. "I am not a whale. I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Prime," a firm voice called out. Optimus focused on the voice, and found a regal human with long, white hair approaching him. A large group of men, presumably emergency workers, arrived as well and immediately began clearing debris, administering first aid, helping shocked bystanders away, and more; one efficiently swept up the little girl and carried her away to a medic despite her protests.
"My name is Melody Coyne, and I am the president of our city," the white-haired female continued. "I thank you and your men for your help, and request that you speak with me privately."
"Of course," Optimus agreed easily, pinging his intentions to his men.
Following the president to a nearby garden, he ended up explaining the war, the Decepticons' intentions, the Autobots' intentions, and why their species was on Earth in the first place.
At the end of his commentary, Melody regarded him with thoughtful intensity.
Finally, she leaned forward in her chair. "I am going to be perfectly blunt with you, Mr. Prime, and I don't know how you will take it." The elderly woman pinned him with a stare that made the Prime freeze where he sat. "You and your people being here is an incredible inconvenience that I don't need."
Optimus felt his mouth drop open behind his mask, but fortunately remained silent while the lady continued. "To begin with, your enemies showed no hesitation in destroying part of our shielded dome. That dome enables us to live on this planet; without proper protection, one of us will be crippled in some way within five minutes and dead within ten. The air on this planet is pure poison, and we simply cannot have it in our cities.
"In addition, there is the more subtle threat that you pose. If I intend to succeed in keeping all of my people alive, well, and mentally healthy, that means careful planning. As one leader to another, I might even be so honest as to call some of that planning 'brainwashing.'" That hard gaze continued to hold Optimus' as their owner dispassionately continued her explanation. "When my grandmother was a girl, all the trouble-makers, non-conformists, and restless spirits had the blessing of being able to travel to places that accepted them, places that had like-minded people or no people at all, to find peace with their lot in life. Now? That is quite literally impossible. We have no such luxury; it is my duty to see that everyone bends to a place in our society. In the most tragic of cases, I see them broken to their stations in one way or another.
"So you see, Mr. Prime," she finished, folding her hands primly on her lap, "You and your foes, with your passionate beliefs, rallying cries, and even your stories of a greater galaxy that we can't learn a single thing about save from you, are the most dangerous threat that my people have ever faced.
"What do you suppose we do about it?"
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Optimus Prime, heroic leader of the Autobots, valiant warleader for millenia, quietly departed from the negotiations feeling ill. President Coyne was the most ruthless, eminently practical being he had ever met in his very long life. He had no doubt that even with all of the dangers facing her city, she would ensure its survival no matter what. In exchange for the Autobots providing intelligence against the Decepticons and fighting them when necessary, the negotiations had decided that the city would assist them in finding whatever resources they required in order to get off the planet as quickly as possible.
And privately, Optimus reflected that their departure could not happen fast enough.
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Title: Séance
Continuity: G1, after the '86 movie and Optimus' resurrection
Prompt: 4. It's a Kind of Magic. Books frequently get challenged based on their use of the occult. Did you know that was one of the major reasons people brought against Twilight? You probably do know, already, that the Harry Potter novels were frequently challenged by school libraries for their depiction of sorcery and magic. Let's honor that by writing a story that involves magic, magical creatures, the occult, or just anything that would upset those people who think Harry Potter is evil.
The excited chatter from the crowd ahead drew Spike's attention, and the older man ambled over curiously. Tapping the safest leg (otherwise known as the one furthest from the crush of bodies), he asked, "What's going on?"
"Oh!" The exclamation actually came from the center of the group, which parted enough for Spike to actually reach the speaker. Bluestreak knelt down to more comfortably converse with him, then ecstatically blurted, "Optimus is going to help me talk to Prowl today!"
Spiked blinked. Prowl had been dead for several years now, and the long-term Autobot friend clearly remembered how devastated and utterly depressed the chatterbox had been at his former guardian's death. In the interest of not bursting the finally happy mech's bubble, Spike tactfully asked, "Could someone please explain things to the clueless human? Because I really think I'm missing something."
"Thanks to the Matrix, Optimus has the ability to communicate with those who have died and gone to rest in the Well of Allsparks," Bluestreak answered promptly. "More to the point, he can also help others who are still living communicate with the dead as well.
"Would you like to watch?" the sniper offered. "It's not a secret or anything. Everyone here is either going to participate or just watch."
After considering for a moment, Spike shrugged. "What the hey, why not? In any case, it should be interesting. Thanks, Bluestreak."
"No problem!"
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Three hours later, Spike staggered into his human-sized quarters. Amazingly enough, the Autobots had been fully serious. During the ceremony, joyful reunions had been made with Ironhide, Prowl, Wheeljack, and other Cybertronians of either faction. (Starscream had showed up too, but the less spoken of those fifteen minutes the better.)
What his very large friends had failed to mention was the sacred ceremony's similarities to every horrible stereotype of fortunetellers, séances, and other supernatural rites. Consequently, his head still swam from the heavy incense, and he still vibrated from the ceaseless humming; on the plus side, he otherwise felt really good from spending the last three hours comfortably sprawled on pillows, cushions, and assorted soft stuff that had been liberally draped all over the room.
With a groan, he flung his arm over his eyes. He didn't care how awesome, amazing, etc. the ceremony was; as soon as he could think straight again, it was going on the ever-increasing "Not for Discussion in Public or with Random Humans" list.
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Author's Notes 2: Here are the details for this set:
#2: There was simply no way that this short was going to be rampant innuendo, so I had to get creative. Just to clarify, yes, it is about people in-the-know being able to determine Jazz's mood by what music he's singing. Surprisingly, I do not like writing Jazz. I can write his fun, cheerful musician aspect well enough, but his very important, terrifying black-ops aspect? Nope, can't, and don't wanna. "Ring around the Rosy" is a popular song/game among children about 3 to 7, and morbidly, it's about the Black Death.
#3: "No Such Thing" is a song by Kathy Mar and the universe that inspired my muse; it's chillingly beautiful. Sadly, I have not been able to find it for free online. If you're looking for new songs though, the filk album "My Favorite Sings" is phenomenal. The time-unit "standard hour" (or year, minute, week, etc.) has been cheerfully stolen from Star Wars and applied to other fandoms because I loathe learning and screwing up new time measurements. Oh, and President Coyne was totally a nod to "Mockingjay."
9/17/15 Edit: Ah-hah! This is why you have to go back every so often and search for "missing" things again. Here's the link to "No Such Thing," and it should clear up any confusion people had about the little girl's whale comment: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m-1GM7AgxUM
#4: This one was really, really hard! I am not in the habit of doing things just to annoy people, and usually when people are being idiots (like whining about how evil Harry Potter is), I just call them idiots and ignore them. Anyway, I hit upon the idea of a séance because they're a surefire way to make a whole lotta people angry. I should probably confess that 1.) they're against my religion, and 2.) thanks to reading a few Harry Houdini biographies as a child, I would have thought they were a bunch of horse-hockey anyway. (In all fairness, I do believe that talking with the dead and fortunetelling can happen when God gets involved, but he rarely does so.) Still, I don't wish to infuriate anyone, and I freely admit that I based what little description I gave off the very, very little stereotypes I know just to amp up the potential headache for Spike.